Siw Adam And Bronwille Ch 02

SIW : Adam O'Neill

It's Sunday again as I submit the second chapter. Again I want to warn you up front that parts will be hard to read and if you want to skip them you'll have to skip "Broken Bones". Once more a huge thank you goes to CedarNeedle for creating such a tale, it wasn't easy. There is another contribution in this chapter, "Halos and Thorns", this was kindly provided by our dear JazCullen. As always many thanks to my loyal proofreaders and the guild for their ongoing support and big kudos for Mikothebaby for her editorial contribution, you rock!

Without further ado : chapter two.

Enjoy the read.

Mokkelke

Chapter Two : Opening the Door to the Soul.

As an early riser, Adam always woke when the first warm sun rays of the day tickled his feet. Only today, he wished he could crawl back under his warm sheets. He grunted as he slowly turned onto his back and kicked away the sheets. Swinging his legs over the bed side, his feet landed on the notepad he tossed on the ground the night before. His eyes traveled over the crumpled up pieces of paper filled with failed attempts.

He kicked a few of them away. Rubbing over the short stubble of hair on the top of his head, he stood up and went for a shower. Standing under the scalding hot water, he leaned his head against the side, letting the warmth of the water massage the stiffness out of his joints.

When he got home after dropping of Mia, he had tried to pen down his feelings, give them a direction. Those failed attempts lay as evidence on his bedroom floor. He had gone through all stages of anger, frustration, rage, defeat and sorrow. He even had felt helpless because there was little to nothing he could do.

Mulling over Mia's words, he tried to understand what she was trying to say to him without being too blunt about it. Suddenly he remembered the volunteer editor program he had found on the bottom of her page.

Mia, you really are a little witch,

he thought as he realized what she had tried to do.

It wouldn't matter if his poem sucked, he could ask her for help. Somehow he didn't like that. He would have to open up that conversation. He wanted her genuine interest, her curiosity. A plan started to form in his mind. He smiled as things started to look brighter. Sure it was going to take time and a lot of it, but if it meant he could get her to trust him, he was more than willing to give her that time.

Drying off quickly, he dressed, started up his old piece of crap and went to make himself some breakfast. He placed his filled plate on the kitchen table. Wanting it to cool down a little bit, he went to his bedroom, made up his bed and gathered the crumpled pieces of paper and took them with him to the kitchen. Spreading them out, he tried his best to flatten them out again.

On most pieces there were only a few words, some appearing on more than one paper, those he tossed away. Scanning through the other ones he did see a sentence here or there that felt raw and true to himself, short phrases that reflected how he felt about what happened to Bron. Some even told of how he felt after some of his Black OPS when he was a SEAL.

He hid those feelings well, but maybe it was time he dealt with his own demons as well.

Cleaning up the kitchen, he gathered the pieces of paper that had some potential and placed them next to his computer that oddly enough decided to start up without many problems. Making a mental note to himself he wanted to get a new one and would have to go into town for that later on.

He clicked on the bookmark that would send him straight to her profile, he read up on the volunteer editor program she signed up for. It said he was the one that had to initiate first contact if he wanted her editing skills. Adam started out with making a profile for himself and book marking her as one of his favorites. He'd chosen Atlas as his writer nick. He literally would carry the world for her if she'd let him. Smiling to himself, he was convinced he had the right nick.

With that settled he went back to the first chapter of "Broken Bones" and opened up the comment box. Staring at the screen for a long time he wasn't entirely sure what he should write without giving away he knew what was written there was more real than any reader could phantom.

#This is a very nerve wrecking story to read. Especially when the girl finds out the guy that kidnapped her is a co-worker she was drawn too. The torment and hurt he's causing her is making my blood boil with anger and makes me want to punch him. I know it's just a story, but it feels like a personal one. I'm almost dreading reading the rest, but I will read it. I need to know if the girl will make it.#

Looking over his comment a few times, he hit the submit button. Looking over the help forums of the site, he took a peek at the poetry department and found a few helpful posts that would aid him to get started with his own. He felt a bit overwhelmed. What some people considered poetry and how others would criticize almost everything a person wrote wracked his nerves. Making up his mind, he decided to just read a few posts; this definitely wasn't the place to ask for genuine help.

Closing everything, he got ready to go downstairs and open up. Once everything for the breakfast routine was settled, he'd go on his daily round of getting groceries for lunch and dinner. He smiled. He just loved to work with food, he always had. Instinctively he knew what would go well together and he experimented a lot.

Doing his best to push back Bron's tale, he started his working day. For the first time he felt that he had a shot at sorting out the situation that was created all those weeks ago. The next thing he decided was that he wouldn't contact Bron anymore, his wolf didn't really agree with that, but after some explaining, his animal understood and relented. It would take a while before their mate would come to them willingly and he understood his human was going to have to do the majority of the work to make that happen.

+ + + +

Tossing and turning, she jerked upright in a sudden move, making her head spin. Looking around she calmed down, seeing she was in her own flat, in her own bed. Breathing heavily and her sudden awakening told her she had had that same nightmare again. With longing in her eyes she looked at the pillow next to hers. Though she had changed the sheets regularly she couldn't, no wouldn't change the pillow casing.

It smelled like him, the only way she was letting him be close. When the nightmares became too bad she switched pillows, breathing in the faint smell of him. It soothed her. Yes, she felt weak that she relied on it to calm her down, but something deep inside of her made her do this. She couldn't quite explain it to herself.

It was the same instinct that kept her picking up the phone and opening the door. Seeing him, hearing him, was all she could handle right now, she was afraid that if she would talk to him and start a real conversation, that things would fall apart. So every time he called, she soaked up his warm voice, like a flower soaking up the warm rays of the sun, and every time he came by she took in his rough looks, secretly wanting to cuddle close and be in his strong safe arms again.

Over time the calls and visits lessened, making her a bit sad. Now it was just a call on Mondays and a visit on Fridays. Looking at the calendar she saw it was Wednesday.

Two more days, then I can see him again

she reasoned with herself.

With a grunt she got out of bed and dragged herself to her bathroom to take her morning shower. Turning on her laptop, she put together a quick breakfast. With a bowl of cereal in her lap and her laptop in front of her on the coffee table, she checked her e-mail. She was surprised to see she had a new comment on her BB story. Knowing just how close to home it was she always dreaded reading comments the people made on that particular one.

Clicking the short link she went straight to the comment. It was a short one. She couldn't really make much of it, just that the person, "Atlas", seemed very touched by it. Normally she'd reply to all comments, but this time she decided to wait a little, wanting to see if he or she would read the rest and if he would keep feeling the same about her "story".

Doing a quick check on his profile she saw he only registered today and only had one favorite, her. She frowned, it felt a bit odd. Going over Atlas' comment once more she told herself there was nothing creepy in there and that the reader probably just did a random search and made an account so as not to comment anonymously.

Bron actually preferred those with an account, it was easier to send them a thank you-note. Over time she even made a few friends, thought all correspondence was done under their forum name. It gave her a feeling of being wanted, but at the same time she was never pushed to tell more than she was willing to tell.

Once BB had posted, her email box was working overtime. At first she took the time to reply to each single mail, but once the majority turned out to be people wanting to know more about the rest of the girl, she started using a pre made message, stating there would never be a sequel to that story and it was of no use to keep asking for it.

As time went by those requests lessened and eventually stopped. Every now and then did she get a new comment, but it was rare these days. That's why seeing the new comment today surprised her a bit. Deciding it was a fluke she went back to the other new comments on her other stories. When she started submitting, so many years ago, she barely got a comment and now, today, she spent a fair amount of time just replying to all the e-mails.

On top of that she does some editing for quite a few people and some proofreading for others. It's what she loved doing and for that she didn't have to leave her home. Everything was sent to her via email. She counted her blessings that when she moved back here she found a job as part time editor for a small firm.

They usually catered to unknown talent who liked to self-publish their work but still want the professional back up. Admittedly, there were some gems out there, some, in her opinion, better than those big mainstream writers that have the big publishers pushing them for a next book and promotions all over the country.

Her daily emails done, she pushed aside her laptop and turned on the TV. Zapping through the channels nothing major was going on, so she switched to her favorite news channel to get up to date on what was happening in the world. Sighing, she quickly zapped away. Again all they were reporting about was a war here, a war there, some attack here and a bomb over there.

Sometimes she wondered why people couldn't just get along, that color or belief didn't matter much at the end of the day when you had to bury your child, spouse or friend. Flicking off the television, she went back to her laptop and checked her to do list. Oddly enough there wasn't much to do. She had a few pieces to read and one or two she had to edit.

It was enough to fill her morning with some reading and her afternoon with some editing. Checking her work account she found it empty. That happened more or less. The firm worked with a few people. There were times she was swamped with work and other times she could focus fully on her own writing and private edits.

Setting aside her laptop, she wanted to do some little chores around the flat before diving into her little gem pool, as she lovingly called the stories she proofread for others. Putting things back where they belonged, which was never much; she made quick work of grabbing a few dry biscuits and a big glass of milk before dropping herself in her big two person couch.

Balancing her laptop on her knees, she dragged the coffee table closer so she'd have her biscuits within reach. She just loved to nibble on things as she read. She did it without even knowing. Always being surprised her little bowl was empty after grabbing in it a few times and finding nothing left.

Going through her emails, she picked the oldest one that was marked "to be read" and opened the attached file and started reading. Hoping that working on something would ease her mind and make her focus on something else. She made it through the days, but images of her past and recent attack popped up whenever she least expected. Reading and editing helped her escape reality and divulge herself in made up worlds.

* * * *

* * * *

Halos and Thorns. By McJazzerson.

Rafal glared at the woman before him, feeling some decidedly non-angelic thoughts. He detested it when his rotation fell at the same time as hers. Give him any other demon to have to spar with and he was fine but no, he always ended up with Super Bitch! It was enough to test his faith in the Almighty, which invariably left him setting himself a personal penance for at least a century after his rotation ended.

It had been eons since he'd had to put up with her so he knew he should be thankful of that at least. It still didn't stop him wanting to gnash his teeth in utter frustration as his eyes roamed over her slinky body draped in a red silk dress. She was badness and temptation in one seductive package. She knew what she was doing too.

The way she sprawled herself sensually on the table before him, one strap of her dress falling lazily from her shoulder as she fanned her straight black tresses away from her neck. It was all artificially designed to tempt him. The twinkle in her jade green eyes sparkled as she silently laughed at him. A trap designed to capture a fallen angel.

"What is it the humans say? If the wind changes your face will stick that way? You won't be such a pretty little thing to look at if the wind changes right now, Rafal."

Even her voice was as sexy as sin; low, husky, like a whispered caress over his skin. She was laughing at him and it was only serving to increase his irritation. He took a deep breath and imagined the soft tinkling waterfall close to his home, the breeze rustling the leaves in the large oak tree outside his library window. Instantly he felt a sense of serenity wash over him and his expression cleared.

"Bugger!" Nadiela cursed sitting up abruptly. Her full red lips formed a petulant pout as she examined the angel before her. She'd almost had him for a moment. Just a few seconds more and he would have been unable to resist her lure and she would have won their game. Now she would have to wait forever to catch him so weakened again.

He was her favorite angel, she had to admit that. His long silky mane gave the appearance of liquid gold flowing around his sharp angular features. His eyes and wings mirrored his hair. Little flecks of chocolate brown danced in the gold of his eyes when he was annoyed. She loved seeing that, knowing she was getting to him.

He was tall and leanly muscled, his body hard and unyielding. She ached to press herself against him, to rub herself all over him until he snapped and took her in a violent surge of passion. The demon blew out a long breath and smiled impishly.

There was no point kidding herself, she wanted to do that to most men, angels or not. Still it would be a coup to seduce Rafal, just because he called her Super Bitch if nothing else. As if the stupid angel didn't know she was aware of what he'd labeled her. She was a first grade demon after all. Demons didn't come any higher than her. Apart from the Master that was.

"I'm bored," she sighed huskily. "You're no fun to play with, Rafal. Jerome was much more easy prey. He kissed me." She smirked as she remembered the pretty angel with his vivid blue wings and matching hair. He had been so easy to tempt, it almost hadn't been fun doing so. But just knowing she had gotten the upper hand over the angel had been enough for her.

"He has to do a thousand years of penance for that kiss," Rafal said serenely. "Frankly I was amazed you lowered yourself, Nadiela. It's not like you to be so easy." His face remained as serene as his voice despite that fact he was laughing inside at the flash of outrage in her eyes. Score another one for him. Maybe if he was able to best the demon then Jerome would get a reprieve from his penance.

"Now that's not very gentlemanly of you to call me easy, angel boy. You'd better watch out I don't tempt you to the dark side. You'd make a lovely demon." She purred the words out, leaning back on her arms and thrusting her pert breasts in his direction. "You'd have to start on the bottom rung of the ladder I grant you and that would mean you'd be too low down for me to play with. But just knowing there was one less angel in Heaven would be worth losing the opportunity of seeing your pretty face again."

It took everything he had not to roll his eyes in resignation. The demon really had to be bored if she was being so blatantly obvious with her seduction techniques. If she'd acted like this in front of Jerome even he would have had the stamina to withstand her many charms.

"Try it on someone else, Nadiela. You're starting to make me feel bored too."

An irritated snort sounded and then she sighed dramatically. "Oh, very well. Let's get on with the task." She grabbed the pitcher of water on the table and tipped it into the gold charger beside it until a very fine layer covered the bottom. "Male or female?"

It was his turn to snort. "Male. Obviously." He waved his hand gracefully as the water shimmered and then pointed when it centered on an average looking man in his mid-twenties. "Him."

"He is so...ordinary," Nadiela's forehead wrinkled with disgust as she all but spat the last word out as if it was tainted. For such a supremely beautiful people, angels picked the ugliest humans to associate themselves with. Just looking at the man was enough to make her shudder.

It was her turn and she arched her hand gracefully across the water, finding an exceptionally attractive young woman of similar age to the man. "Her."

Neither of them commented on the fact the man's coloring closely resembled Rafal's. Or that the woman actually resembled Nadiela in more than just coloring.

"Until the stroke of midnight on Valentine's Night," they said together.

Their hands touched in agreement, his sending a wave of serenity through the demon's body, hers sending a pulse of red hot lust through his. The gold of Rafal's eyes turned chocolate brown as sparks of silver danced in the jade of Nadiela's.

For a second their hands fused as they fought to overcome the others defenses, and then they released their touch, both sighing inwardly that they'd escaped each other relatively unscathed. It was down to the humans now. That was where the game would be played out.

* * * *

* * * *

Bron smiled as she closed the file. This was a good start to a nice story and she'd be sure to let Jazz know that. She liked how it almost seemed that the demon would get her way, but then Rafal reverted back to his home and snapped out of it. Sworn enemies, their interaction was nice and fun to read. Tamping down her reaction, she made sure to let the writer know she'd be thrilled to read the next one and added more of her comments before sending it off.

Looking at the clock she saw it was nearing noon.

Lunch break

she thought as she went back to her kitchen to raid her cupboards and fridge. Putting a lot of things on the counter she put together a very thick sandwich. Chuckling, she wondered how she was going to fit it in her mouth. Sitting down at the table, she slowly devoured the whole sandwich. Not a crumb was left on her plate as she placed it in her dishwasher.

The rest of her afternoon she spent doing some edits on several pieces. Switching from one to the other, knowing if she focused on one she'd get caught up in the story. In the end that cost her more time to get them done. For her it worked perfectly to work through a page of one story and then switching to another. This way she worked through several stories at the same time.